The skating season had commenced unusually early; our boys were by no means alone upon the ice. The afternoon was so fine, that men, women, and children, bent upon enjoying the holiday, had flocked to the grand canal from far and near. Saint Nicholas had evidently remembered the favorite pastime; shining new skates were everywhere to be seen. Whole families were skimming their way to Haarlem or Leyden or the neighboring villages. The ice seemed fairly alive. Ben noticed the erect, easy carriage of the women, and their picturesque variety of costume. There were the latest fashions, fresh from Paris, floating past dingy, moth-eaten garments that had seen service through two generations; coal-scuttle bonnets perched over freckled faces bright with holiday smiles; stiff muslin caps, with wings at the sides, flapping beside cheeks rosy with health and contentment; furs, too, encircling the whitest of throats; and scanty garments fluttering below faces ruddy with exercise—In short every quaint and comical mixture of dry-goods and flesh that Holland could furnish, seemed sent to enliven the scene. There were belles from Leyden, and fishwives from the border villages; cheese women from Gouda, and prim matrons from beautiful country-seats on the Haarlemmer Meer. Gray-headed skaters were constantly to be seen; wrinkled old women, with baskets upon their heads; and plump little toddlers on skates clutching at Boys and girls were chasing each other, and hiding behind the one-horse sleds, that, loaded high with peat or timber, pursued their cautious way along the track marked out as "safe." Beautiful, queenly women were there, enjoyment sparkling in their quiet eyes. Sometimes a long file of young men, each grasping the coat of the one before him, flew by with electric speed; and sometimes the ice squeaked under the chair of some gorgeous old dowager, or rich burgomaster's lady—who, very red in the nose, and sharp in the eyes, looked like a scare-thaw invented by old father Winter for the protection of his skating grounds. The chair would be heavy with footstoves and cushions, to say nothing of the old lady. Mounted upon shining runners it slid along, pushed by the sleepiest of servants, who, looking neither to the right nor the left, bent himself to his task while she cast direful glances upon the screaming little rowdies who invariably acted as body-guard. As for the men, they were pictures of placid enjoyment. Some were attired in ordinary citizen's dress; but many looked odd enough with their short woolen coats, wide breeches, and big silver buckles. These seemed to Ben like little boys who had, by a miracle, sprung suddenly into manhood, and were forced to wear garments that their astonished mothers had altered in a hurry. He noticed, too, that nearly all the men had pipes, as they passed him whizzing and smoking like so For a while, Ben skated on in silence. There was so much to engage his attention that he almost forgot his companions. Part of the time he had been watching the ice-boats as they flew over the great Haarlemmer Meer (or Lake), the frozen surface of which was now plainly visible from the canal. These boats had very large sails, much larger, in proportion, than those of ordinary vessels, and were set upon a triangular frame furnished with an iron "runner" at each corner,—the widest part of the triangle crossing the bow, and its point stretching beyond the stern. They had rudders for guiding, and brakes for arresting their progress; and were of all sizes and kinds, from small, rough affairs managed by a boy, to large and beautiful ones filled with gay pleasure parties, and manned by competent sailors, who smoking their stumpy pipes, reefed and tacked and steered with great solemnity and precision. Some of the boats were painted and gilded in gaudy style and flaunted gay pennons from their mastheads; It was a rare thing for these boats to be upon the canal and their appearance generally caused no little excitement among skaters, especially among the timid; but to-day every ice-boat in the country seemed afloat or rather aslide, and the canal had its full share. Ben, though delighted at the sight, was often startled at the swift approach of the resistless, high-winged things threatening to dart in any and every possible direction. It required all his energies to keep out of the way of the passers-by, and to prevent those screaming little urchins from upsetting him with their sleds. Once he halted to watch some boys who were making a hole in the ice preparatory to using their fishing spears. Just as he concluded to start again, he found himself suddenly bumped into an old lady's lap. Her push chair had come upon him from the rear. The old lady screamed, the servant who was propelling her gave a warning hiss—In another instant Ben found himself apologizing to empty air; the indignant old lady was far ahead. This was a slight mishap compared with one that now threatened him. A huge ice-boat, under full sail, came tearing down the canal, almost paralyzing Ben with the thought of instant destruction. It was close upon him! Lambert chided him roundly. "I thought it was all over with you, you careless fellow! Why don't you look where you are going? Not content with sitting on all the old ladies' laps, you must make a Juggernaut of every ice-boat that comes along. We shall have to hand you over to the aanspreekers yet, if you don't look out!" "Please don't," said Ben, with mock humility—then seeing how pale Lambert's lips were, added in a low tone: "I do believe I thought more in that one moment, Van Mounen, than in all the rest of my past life." There was no reply, and, for a while, the two boys skated on in silence. Soon a faint sound of distant bells reached their ears. "Hark!" said Ben, "what is that?" "The carillons," replied Lambert. "They are trying the bells in the chapel of yonder village. Ah! Ben, you should hear the chimes of the 'New Church' at Delft; "For shame," said Ben, indignantly. Peter had, for the present, exhausted his stock of Haarlem anecdotes, and now, having nothing to do but to skate, he and his three companions were hastening to "catch up" with Lambert and Ben. "That English lad is fleet enough," said Peter; "if he were a born Hollander he could do no better. Generally these John Bulls make but a sorry figure on skates—Hollo! Here you are, Van Mounen; why, we hardly hoped for the honor of meeting you again. Who were you flying from in such haste?" "Snails," retorted Lambert. "What kept you?" "We have been talking—and, beside, we halted once to give Poot a chance to rest." "He begins to look rather worn out," said Lambert in a low voice. Just then a beautiful ice-boat with reefed sail, and flying streamers, swept leisurely by. Its deck was filled with children muffled up to their chins. Looking at them from the ice you could see only smiling little faces imbedded in bright-colored, woolen wrappings. They were singing a chorus in honor of Saint Nicholas. The music, starting in the discord of a hundred childish voices, floated, as it rose, into exquisite harmony: Friend of sailors, and of children! |